Make Quilts Not War (24 page)

Harriet thought about protesting, but the fact was it felt like her blood vessels were trying to make a break for it. Mavis settled her in one of the wing chairs in the studio and disappeared back into the kitchen.

A soft tapping sounded on the outside door.

“Come in,” Harriet called.

The door opened, and Aiden stepped in.

“Hi,” he said softly. “I just stopped by to see how you were doing. I came by earlier, but you weren’t here.” He took his jacket off and sat down on one of the wheeled chairs.

“I was out.”

“With Tom?”

“I think that’s none of your business.”

“Must have been pretty important if you risked letting your burn get infected going out in public.”

“My doctor hasn’t put any restrictions on my activities.”

“He probably assumed you’d use common sense.”

“Does your sister know you came to check up on me?” Harriet asked, changing the subject.

Aiden’s face reddened, but his silence was all the answer she needed.

“Can we not go there,” he said finally.

“I’m just curious as to why you’re here. Your sister’s never going to let you see me. You know that, I know that, so what are we doing?”

“I just wanted to see how you are. I care about you.”

“I know you care about me—just not enough to have an open, honest relationship. You might be willing to treat me like some kind of illicit affair, but I’m sorry—that’s not good enough. I don’t need or want your sister’s approval, but apparently that means more to you than us being a couple does. When you’re ready to cut your sister out of our relationship, come back and see me. Until then, it’s none of your business where I go or who I go there with.”

“Are you willing to wait until I get things straightened out?”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Harriet said. She moved her arm as she spoke, and winced at the pain the movement caused. She drew in her breath. “I can’t see you, but I’m not supposed to see anyone else. Your sister not only controls your life, but you want me to agree to let her control mine, too. Well, hear me loud and clear—that’s not going to happen.”

Mavis came through the door from the kitchen.

“You leave Harriet alone,” she scolded. “She needs her rest, and I could hear you two from the kitchen, and the door was closed. And Harriet’s right. If you’re not willing to take that sister of yours to task, then just stay away from here. Can’t you see that Harriet’s injured? She’s supposed to be resting, not being badgered by someone who claims to be her friend.”

“I
am
her friend,” Aiden protested, hurt apparent in his voice.

“Then start acting like it and leave Harriet alone so she can rest. Now go, before your sister notices you’re gone and comes looking
for you. The last thing we need is that witch showing up here.”
Mavis pointed to the door.

Aiden got up, put his jacket on and, with an angry scowl at
Harriet, left.

Harriet was dozing in her chair when Connie arrived. She woke to discover Mavis had carried the carafes full of hot water and coffee, as well as the tea bags, sugar, milk and a plate full of warm cookies, into the studio and set them on a kitchen towel on her cutting table.

“Robin was just pulling in,” Connie reported. “How are we going to approach this?”

“I think we need to lock the door and demand the truth from Jenny,” Harriet said. “You can tell she’s holding something back, and my feeling is that I wouldn’t be sitting here with my arm wrapped like a mummy if she’d come clean from the start.”

Aunt Beth came in with Robin and took her coat off, laying it over one of the work chairs.

“Can someone fill me in on what this is about?” she asked.

Harriet quickly told her aunt what had transpired during the break in the concert.

“I guess you’re lucky Tom and Lauren were there,” Beth said when she had finished.

“Geez,” DeAnn said. “I leave you guys alone for one evening, and you find more trouble.”

“It was Jenny and Robin who had the problem,” Harriet said. “I was on the rescue team.”

“With that arm?”

“Lauren and Tom actually did the saving. I was the witness, and we called Detective Morse right away.”

“That must have been Robin,” DeAnn said.

“If you want to split hairs, yes,” Harriet said.

“You should come fix your tea or coffee and get some cookies,” Mavis said. “Jenny is going to be here any minute.”

“We hope,” Harriet said.

Ten more minutes passed before Lauren came through the door, holding Jenny by the elbow. Robin took Jenny’s coat, and Connie handed her a cup of tea and a sugar cookie.

“Here, eat and drink a little and get warmed up before we get started,” she said.

Harriet took a long look at Jenny. A strand of silver-gray hair fell over her left eye. No longer dressed in nineteen-sixties clothes, her silk blouse was wrinkled, and her wool slacks were becoming baggy around her knees. She’d never seen her friend go out in public in such disarray.

The room quieted as everyone settled in with their drinks and cookies, and the quilters looked around the circle of chairs, exchanging glances. Lauren pulled her chair up beside Harriet’s.

“This isn’t going to get any easier if we keep stalling,” Mavis said and looked at Jenny. “We need an explanation, and we need it to be the truth this time.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jenny said.

“That’s simply not true,” Mavis said. “We’ve been very patient, trying to let you work through whatever it is that’s happening in your life without us intruding, but it’s clear to everyone you’ve not been truthful, and as a result, your friends are paying the price.”

“Harriet is sitting here with a burned arm, and if it wasn’t for Lauren and Tom, it sounds like you and Robin could have been hurt,” Aunt Beth said.

“Not to mention your dead brother,” Lauren muttered, so only Harriet could hear her.

“We don’t know if Harriet’s burn was because of Jenny,” Connie protested. “That crazy lady would have come no matter what Jenny did or didn’t do,”

“I don’t believe that,” Mavis said, “and neither will you, if you think about it.”

“Can we get on with it?” Lauren asked and yawned. “Some of
us have work tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry all of you have been dragged into my problems.” Jenny hung her head, staring at the wheels of her chair. “As I told you,” she began carefully, “my brother has always been a problem. He got involved with the wrong people and that led to his selling drugs.” She paused.

“Go on,” Mavis directed. “Get it off your chest. You’ll feel better.”

“Bobby was supplying drugs to a group of young political idealists in the late sixties. They decided to make a statement by bombing a Selective Service registration office. Bobby didn’t have any political ambitions, but he went along with whatever they did because the more paranoid they became, the more drugs and LSD they used. Needless to say, this didn’t lead to clarity of thought.

“Something went wrong, and the participants were caught. The
police figured out Bobby was a fringe player. He had no real
knowledge of the crime, and he only had a small amount of marijuana in his pocket, so they let him off with a couple of years for drug possession. The other people who were involved got more serious time.”

“Can we fast-forward to the part where people are coming after you?” Lauren asked.

“And I’d like to know what Bobby was trying to warn you about, and why you didn’t want to listen to him,” Harriet added.

“I told you,” Jenny said. “He’s nothing but trouble. You can’t believe a word he says.”

“I talked to him several times, and you know what? I did believe him. He was afraid, and he was trying to help you, and look what he got for it. He’s dead,” Harriet said. “And while we’re talking about it, I don’t believe you don’t know the woman who threw acid on me.

“And last time you tried to sell this story, your brother was a bank robber, not a political protester. Which was it?”

“Both,” Jenny said, her voice getting louder. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Mavis added hot water to Jenny’s teacup. Jenny dunked her used teabag up and down. Harriet looked at Jenny, waiting for an explanation.

“The group of young people who were planning the break-in at the Selective Service office quickly realized that they knew nothing
about how to successfully break in to anything without being
caught. A guy named Cosmic had an uncle who was a bank robber. The uncle was barely older than Cosmic, but he was just out of jail for the second time for robbery, and he was willing to help if the group would supply him with drugs at no cost.”

She took a sip of tea and let out a big sigh.

“It’s hard to explain what times were like back then. Everyone had at least one friend who’d been killed in Vietnam. Guys graduated high school and went to Vietnam, and you were lucky if you ever saw them again. And if you did, they weren’t the same person you went to prom with or played basketball with. No one wanted that to happen to them.”

“Back to the bank robbers,” Lauren prompted.

“Cosmic’s uncle drove by the Selective Service Office and made a fateful discovery. There was a branch of the Bank of Washington right next door. They shared an interior wall. Suddenly, there was more than a few drugs as a payoff for risking another jail sentence.

“Cosmic’s uncle said he needed to involve a friend, and eventually told Cosmic and his group that while they were stealing the computer punch cards, he and his friend were going to blow through the wall and rob the bank.”

“And everyone agreed to that?” Harriet asked.

“Daily use of marijuana along with the occasional tab of LSD did not leave the group with great critical thinking skills, no matter how passionate their anti-Selective Service sentiments were,” Jenny countered.

“Can we skip to the end?” Lauren asked.

“The result was, there must have been a silent alarm or
something. Bobby never knew what went wrong. He just said that while everyone was still inside, the police arrived. Cosmic’s uncle and his friend had gone in armed. A shootout of some sort ensued, and a policeman was shot and killed. Several of the other players were also shot. Bobby didn’t carry a gun, and he didn’t think Cosmic or the other idealists did, either. I think I told you, Bobby wasn’t really involved. He was in the getaway car, in the back seat, and he got rid of most of the drugs when he heard sirens.”

“So, how does this relate to someone trying to hurt you?”
Harriet asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, the police were tipped about the Selective Service break-in, but they weren’t expecting the robbery. Since Bobby didn’t know about the robbery plan, he was the one everyone suspected of being the snitch. I guess killing Bobby wasn’t enough revenge for them.”

“And where were you during all this?” Harriet asked.

“At the commune,” she said. “I was too young and naive to see who my brother really was at that point. He used to call me every Sunday, but this time he called me on a Wednesday.”

“How did you end up living on the commune, anyway?” Harriet asked.

“I don’t really know,” Jenny said and paused a moment, her eyes distant. “Let me explain. My parents were not your traditional
Ozzie and Harriet
,
Leave it to Beaver
sort of folks. They lived in a variety of small group situations. My dad left at some point—I don’t know why or where he went. He just wasn’t there one day.

“Eventually, we ended up at the commune, and we saw less and
less of my mother, and then she was gone. When Bobby got in
trouble for drugs, he was gone, too. By that time, I was attached to other, more stable parental figures, so it wasn’t traumatic, but like I said, Bobby did call every week until that Wednesday.

“After that he’d call or send postcards from all over the place, but they got fewer and farther between, and then they stopped. When I was older, Maggie May, the woman I consider to be my mother, told me about Bobby and his involvement in the drug world.”

“I suppose those two men who grabbed us tonight were the
bank robbers,” Robin said.